Yearly Check Up
by Meredith-Grey
Summary: The phone rings, once, twice, he picks up before the answering machine makes it’s debut. “Hey Jess.” Futurefic, Jess and Jimmy. One Shot.


**Title:** _Yearly Check Up_

**Rating:** _T, for language._

**Date Written:** _4-19-08_

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Gilmore Girls. It all belongs to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the WB. Except for the personalities of Lourdes and James, those are mine._

**Summary:** _The phone rings, once, twice, he picks up before the answering machine makes it's debut. "Hey Jess."_

**A/N:**_ I just sort of wrote this. It's set in the future with implied Rory/Jess. Tell me what you think._

One o'clock, one fifteen, one forty-five, ten past two, two thirty, three o'clock, twenty past three, four o'clock, four forty-five, five fifteen . . .

He glances, at the flock face, at his wrist, at the racing sunlight outside the window of his study. The later it gets the more he begins to doubt, or accept. That it'll just come later, that he's forgotten, that maybe he has the wrong day, but he knows all of this is folly just to plicate his nerves.

The phone rings, once, twice, he picks up before the answering machine makes it's debut.

"Hey Jess."

"You called."

They volley back and forth, throwing around syllables, each word matching the size of the next.

"You don't sound surprised."

"I remembered."

"Good. I was afraid I wouldn't catch you."

He nods, and realizes that the only person to pray witness is himself. "Yeah. It's just me and Lo today."

He fidgets, draws a hand rolled cigarette from the little silver case on his desk, lights it, takes a breath. "How are the grapes this year?"

"Wet, there's been a lot of rain. It'll be a good year."

"Guess I'll have to find out for myself, won't I?"

"I'll send you a bottle. Promise."

"It's still hard for me to imagine, the you I met when I was eighteen never would have left Venice, let alone traipse all the way up to Nappa."

He chuckles, "I still go down sometimes, I'm a man of the people."

"Well that makes one of us."

"So where's the other half of your unit today?"

"James is doing some math thing. I really don't know. He sort of mumbled it on his way out this morning. Rory's interviewing a diplomat from one of those Slavic-speaking countries."

"And Lourdes?"

They both pause, listening hard. Upstairs, down the hall, behind drywall and sealed doors, the faint sounds of keystrokes could be heard. The meticulous repetition of a fourteen-year-old pianist.

"I swear, that girl is your female doppelganger."

He arches a dark eyebrow. "You exaggerate."

"I kid you not, my son. If you had grown up with tits you would be Lo."

"You see, that tends to happen with parents and offspring, they usually resemble each other . . ."

He blows smoke rings, hazy and laced with nicotine.

"How's the new book?"

"It's getting there."

"Still working on the same one?"

He makes a funny expression. "I like to take my time, thanks."

"Right, right. What's that saying? Each writers' magnum opus isn't created in a year?"

"Call it what you want, it's still not done."

" . . . putting the page count at?"

"Seven sixty."

"Batting a thousand?"

"Something like that."

He jokes. "Make it too long and I won't be able to get through it."

"You're a terrible liar."

"A trait that you don't seem to posses."

"Thankfully." Jess mumbles.

"Yes, I'm sure that's something Rory's grateful for."

"What you don't know can't hurt you."

"Now who's the terrible liar?"

"How's Sasha?" He evades.

Knowingly, Jimmy answers. "Fine, fine. She digs it out here, you know, that whole redwood forest going back to nature thing."

"Sounds like she would."

"We went by La Honda last weekend, that was a trip."

"In how many ways?" Jess chuckles.

"Ha," he comments dryly. "I don't do that stuff anymore."

"You know what they say, more bang for your buck. It'll come back to you."

"Seen any diamonds lately?"

"Yeah. Luce pays me frequent visits. I had a flashback when I was standing in line at the post office the other day."

He suppresses a laugh. "More purple toads?"

"Nope. Just maple syrup oozing all over the floor. I got the giggles and couldn't shut up."

Jimmy sounds unsurprised. "It happens."

"Rory was not amused. She didn't get it until I explained it to her, four hours after the fact."

"That's what happens when you marry a nice girl. Not that anyone's complaining, you'd never be able to find your underwear without her . . . "

"Hey," he defendes. "I'm a self sufficient adult."

"You were, now you're a _lazy_ adult. Marriage will make you soft."

Jess rolls his eyes. "Says the man who wore jeans and sandals to Lily's graduation."

"So where does James want to go to school?" Jimmy evades.

"MIT, in Boston. April went there."

"That Luke's kid?"

"Yeah."

"I can't imagine Luke with a kid."

"I think the kid stage has long since passed."

"Still."

"I know."

"Now that you mention it, it's hard for me to imagine _you _with a kid."

"What can I do to convince you?"

"Seeing is believing."

"Pictures," Jess laughs. "Talk about soft."

"As a goddam marshmallow."

"I'll send you some."

"Good."

They talk. The late May heat is present on both ends of the conversation. Their words, building to an easy, joking medium, reach a pinnacle. What begins a tentative ends in a steady downward sweep. Life pulls them towards different exits.

"How does May twenty-third sound to you?"

"May twenty-third sounds fine."

"Alright."

"Ok."

"Guess I'll talk to you then."

"Guess so."

They're both nearing the end, the separation. Usually, it bothers him. Weeks before they talk he gets quiet and tense. Rory knows enough to understand.

Usually, the idea of his father and all the things he gave up for their relationship makes him sick. Like a big fucking joke. But not today.

"Hey Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy birthday."

**A/N:** _If some of the references didn't make sense I'll be happy to explain. Reviews are always appreciated._


End file.
